The Fourth Book of Virgils Aeneid and the Ninth Book of Voltaires Henriad | Page 9

when you call on injure! Dido's name,?I'll follow glaring in the light'ning's flame;?When Death's cold hand this wretched soul shall free, My ghost shall haunt you, wheresoe'er you be.?480 Yes wretch--be sure--the vengeance will be paid.
'Twill reach my ear--'twill sooth my angry shade?.?While yet she spoke, she trembling turn'd away,?Broke from his sight, and shun'd the light of day.
485 She left him struck with fear, with grief opprest;
Opposing thoughts revolv'd within his breast.?Her languid step her maids supporting led,?And plac'd her fainting on the nuptial bed.
Much as he wish'd the mourner to console,?To speak soft comfort to her wounded soul,?490 To grief, to doubt, to pow'rful love a prey,
Jove's sov'reign will, the hero must obey,?He views the fleet, his brave companions cheers,?Hauls down the bark and to the ocean veers;?The sides well calk'd, the briny wave defy,?495 The living woods, their shapeless limbs supply,
From the green oar the bleeding leaf they tear,?They run, they toil, they press the phasing care.
In gath'ring numbers from the town they pour,?Wind o'er the plain, and spread along the shore?500 Like ants, that forage for a future day, 500
And to their stores the plunder'd wheat convey;?In narrow columns move the sable train;?These with main strength roll on the pond'rous grain; These press the march, and these the loit'rers drive; 505 They go, they come, their path seems all alive.
Ill fated Queen! what pangs your bosom tore,?What sighs you heav'd, as on the moving shore,?The busy crews, assembling in your sight,?With dashing waves, their horrid shouts unite.?510 Love, in our heart! how boundless is thy force!
To tears again, to pray'r she has recourse;?Love bends her soul each suppliant art to try,?Each humble suit, ere she resolve, to die.??See, Anna, see, the crowded beach they hide,?515 See how they spread, they swarm from ev'ry side;
Their open sails already court the wind,?The stern with wreaths the joyful sailors bind.?Oh had I thought such ills could e'er ensue?Perhaps I should have learn'd to bear them too??520 Now grant me, Anna, grant this one request!
False man! his friendship you alone possest;?To you his heart was open, none but you,?The soft access, the pliant moment knew.?Go sister then, my haughty foe intreat,?525 Tell him to Troy I sent no hostile fleet;
Nor yet, at Aulis, was I one that swore,?United vengeance to the Dardan shore.?Have I disturb'd his father's sacred shade,?That to be heard--not mere--in vain I've pray'd??530 Tho' clos'd his ears to me, can be deny
This last, this least request! where would he fly??Bid him remain till wintry storms subside,?Till kinder breezes, smooth the ruffled tide.?535 The nuptial vow, which he so vainly swore,
His plighted faith no longer I implore,?Nor yet his Latian kingdom to forego:?Some fruitless space, some breathing time for woe,?'Till fate have thought the wretch subdu'd to grieve, Is all I beg--Obtain this last reprieve--?540 For pity gain it,--and the short delay
With all her parting soul, will Dido pay?.?So pray'd the Queen, and o'er and o'er again,?Pray'rs, sighs, and tears her sister urg'd in vain;?Unmov'd he stands by tears, by pray'rs by sighs,?545 The fates oppose, the God his ear denies.
Thus from the rock, the patient work of years,?His knotted strength an oak majestic rears,?When Alpine storms on ev'ry side contend,?Now here, now there his rooted mass to bend,?550 Each labour'd limb resounds, and from his head
The rustling spoils in heaps the ground o'erspread.?He grasps the rock unmov'd, and proudly shoots?As high to heav'n his head, as down to hell his roots. With storms as fierce the lab'ring Hero torn,?555 Now here now there by swelling passion borne
Sunk in his soul a mighty load of woe,?His mind unshook--tears unavailing flow.
'Twas then that Dido, sinking with her fate,?In all its horror view'd her wretched state.?560 The light of heav'n grew odious to her sight,
She call'd on Death, and each religions rite?With horrid omens urg'd the dark design:?The milky juice flowed black upon the shrine;?And dire to tell, the sacred wine she bore?565 Fell from the cup in fleaks of clotted gore.
These horrid sighs, to her alone reveal'd,?Ev'n from her sister's friendship she conceal'd.?But more--a temple in the palace stood?With snow-white fleeces hang, with garlands strew'd,?570 Where to her former husband's honor'd shade
Assiduous worship, daily vows she paid:?There, when the night, unroll'd her sable pall?She hears his voice in doleful murmurs call,?While from the roof the fated owl alone?575 In deep complaint prolongs the funeral tone.
Beside, what ills had been foretold before,?Now on her mind, a dread impression bore.?Her aching eyes did broken slumbers close,??neas like a vengeful fury rose:?580 Alone--forsaken--distant from her home,
Driv'n o'er the desert--she appears to roam?With sinking steps,--abandoned--left behind,?Thro' burning sands her native Tyre to find.?So mad Pentheus saw two suns arise,?585 Two Thebes appear before his haggard eyes.
So wild Orestes flies his mother's rage,?With snakes, with torches arm'd across the stage,?To 'scape her vengeance whereso'er